Same Steps

I am tall, at least that's what I thought until I got here and stood under the shadows of high mountains and hills, praying and worshiping along with others. That giant structures made me a good example of an old proverb, until I redeemed my ego and got up on their tip. 

But as I stood there, gazing over the vast clear horizon,  the time when strong winds can do nothing  but wrinkle my shirt, beneath of me laid endless layers of rocks and sand. And as they lay on each other, hiding the true colours, one can still see them at the sides and understand the amount of pain they are at. One can feel the hardened skin over the hills which never let anything hold on it for long, unless they carry the same hard nature. The water, which once fell from these heights, had made marks, noting its place, keeping reminded of the power it forces to draw such beautiful canals over the same hard, pained rocks.

The stone is so hard it leaves marks, even at its most soothing touch, which makes it more wonderful to understand the importance of patience. Patience, which drives the water, soft as the blown wind to make a child smile, to keep pushing, until the hard, non beings, flow with it.
      

But I wasn't at the star, the shimmering blue, oceanic sky, with cotton clouds, white and calm as the cows we bathed in childhood drenched the scene above me and  made me feel  tiny. Tiny in the infinite space and made me realise why at least a human life should extend far more than achieving the goals of survival. It should be such that the words, teachings and experiences, good or bad may be, passed on the next ours. Cause the universe shall always remain untouched by our efforts and prayers, its too vast to be contained in those. It has its own way of flowing. All we can do now is, preserve and cultivate what we have the best in our hands, the present itself.

Be fools  keep it restricted to their blood and the wise may relate to the whole race and work on it, not like an ascetic but like a 'Murtikar', working to make an idol which is worshiped for years, ignoring the legacy he belonged to, but considering the legacy he had created.

Then I looked at the stairs that  helped me climb this far. They had fainted in their color and had pointy rocks and rubble with broken, weary corners. But they were there, giving path to the pilgrims to rise. The efforts were after all by the people themselves, but the stairs guided them and made the hard travel possible. They are doing it for generations and doing it very well.

What made them so strong to hold the ground together, I asked the friend who accompanied me. An engineer by profession. He looked at me and then stairs and went on to give credit to the excellent use of  gravels, rocks, reinforcements, asphalt and maintenance. 

" Right from their making, to date, they are maintained in the best possible conditions, the labors in the company have sometimes worked in the restructure of certain grey areas, cause of obvious faith, before it decays altogether and become far from being corrected", he paused  for a moment and then continued  " Do you see the green lining over the walls ?" He pointed by his hand at the fort walls, over the tip of nearby hill. "Yes, they are visibly clear" I replied. " Well, the rain and heavy winds, causes great damage to the structure but they come and go. In the absence of those, these structures are decayed by these plants and fungus, growing above them, like parasites, weakening them, so the next time rain comes, it will hit harder, even when the applied forces are lesser.

The pathway had ended and were left to walk on the surface with increasing sign of damage by time, but he continued, looking at his feet, saving them from the thorns on way. " Temple Trust braces for the visible damages, but ignores the slow and rotting ones. They are inferior for their attention"

"So what's the best we have?" I asked.

"Once a strong structure is made, like the human body, it has to be protected, maintained and importantly, evolved, timelessly"!

I agreed to all but the idea of evolve seemed unfair for a Non living object, after all there is a reason we call it non living.

"Well " I cleared my throat and said "Height is making you a little dizzy I think"

"Do you think its funny to include evolution in it" he read the thoughts in my mind.

I just kept walking.

"A little" I replied when he kept pushing intangibly.

" I know it may sound awkward, but why can't they evolve ?" He asked  me for answer.

" Cause they are non -living first of all, and say if we agreed, who has the knowledge, patience and time to make them evolve." I answered. " And if someone has, why to waste talent restructuring the old ones, he may endure for something with his own name".

" That's true, but thats an easy path to choose, and the easy aren't the right ones always. If the old ones got corrupted and fell, they may become a higher threat to ourselves, so before the time come, let us make the change. Let us start the thought again and gain the ignored wisdom, "

" Debatable", I said  quizzically.

With eyebrows up, he wanted to turn back at my face, but changed his mind and with a sardonic smile said," ja jile apni zindagi" 

And before we can argue any further the long, ignored crowd, now came to life and started pushing from behind as the gates had opened for Darshan.

And then the whole shrine filled with chanting of 'Jai Malhar'.